


I would be so happy here with you

by Lavender_Seaglass



Category: Fire Emblem Series
Genre: F/F, Female-Centric, Spoilers, Unrequited Love, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-16
Updated: 2013-03-16
Packaged: 2017-12-05 12:25:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/723293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_Seaglass/pseuds/Lavender_Seaglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lucina suspects that Robin has designs upon her father's honour. Somehow, the truth is avoided.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I would be so happy here with you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My younger sister](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+younger+sister).



> AN: I had to write this before Awakening killed me with another vapid romance. Oh gods, the insouciance.
> 
> And I need to beg forgiveness. I rewrote supports to make them fit with this story. It's AU, I guess, given the canon dynamics of Awakening. (IE Robin can't be not!het, not really. I suppose you could choose not to marry him/her to someone, but then you wouldn't spawn Morgan.) Also, I feel like I could expand upon this a lot, but I am not sure how to do so. If only I was a more capable editor, etc.

"And so, I'd like it if we could keep our cavalry back here until absolutely necessary," Chrom says to his war council.

There's shifting and shuffling as they think. Then in the next moment his daughter Cynthia stands up to raise her objections. No-one is surprised. "But without our gallant knights and their trusty steeds, how are we supposed to look like the descendants of Altea? We ought to honour our ancestors properly!"

Chrom responds, but Robin's too distracted to mind the first few lines of the imminent row. She's focussed on Marth. That name won't leave her mind now, and she clutches it to her it like jetsam as she's cast adrift. It's a pathetic hope in the wake of the looming squall. But she focusses. She's still floating. She won't give up clinging.

Under the table her hands fumble in the pockets of her robes. (Oh, how they would would tumble, tremble, tug at clothing—) Finally she brushes her fingers against the Einherjar card. It's cool, matte surface saves her; she thinks of Marth, the man. He is a noble notion that anchors her. And there is a vision of that lecherous old man, leering at her— _wha_ _t_ _would he think of me now?_

Robin doesn't care. He won't be finding out, anyway. No-one will.

She recalls herself and casts her attention at the word, "great."

"I want no heroics. Is that understood?" Chrom's asking them all.

Robin says, "We can ill afford something like that at this time."

Chrom nods at her and she smiles gravely at him. She's so sure that she's covered for herself, she doesn't sense the sceptical scowl openly aimed at her.

 

.

But Lucina takes Robin up on it once the meeting is over. She confronts her not in her tent but in the tome storage, though at least they are alone here.

Lucina says, "What was that?"

"Ah, Lucina. I didn't hear anything." Robin makes a show of looking around the darkened tent before returning to her list. She's tallying up how many books  _of_  magic they've left. So far they have more books  _on_  magic, so shopping will be need to be done soon. You can only pry so many books from the hands of Risen before they spontaneously decompose.

"Don't play the fool with me. Back in the war council there was something wrong."

Robin now has to affect her disinterest. Or her coolness, which will be her proof of innocence. "I don't know what you mean."

"Listen to me. Father told me that you're no longer acting distant around him, so I didn't think it could be that. But there's something still up with you. I  _saw_  you daydreaming. I could practically hear it, it was so obvious."

And though Robin isn't looking and can't see it, she  _feels_ the dwindling distance between them. Lucina could be hostile all she wants and Robin could bear it. For Robin, it's her last step that's Lucina's ultimate act of belligerence.

It's so warm, so close, in that tent. The books need to be stored in a protected environment.

Robin whips around and steps back simultaneously. Her ankle rolls out under her but her pain's hidden—the scowl on her face must be expected. She usually grimaces when this present tightness grows in her belly.

"So what is it? Speak," Lucina demands.

"I'm sorry, milady. It won't happen again."

"I asked what is ailing you. Is it this war? The decisions you must make?"

"I—"

"Answer me true. I'm no fool. I will know if you're deceiving me."

"Frankly," Robin says, and here she is outraged and suddenly on firmer ground. She sweats in her robes. "Frankly, it's not your concern."

"Not my concern! Damn you! I'm trying to keep my father from getting killed. You could be delirious with fever and he would still not think twice about heeding your counsel! So, whatever trifle it is that has even the slightest cloying influence on you,  _that is frankly my concern._ "

As Lucina steps closer, Robin reminds herself to remember where this deluge of devoted concern is coming from. Whom it is really for.

Quietly, Robin says, "I just can't win with your family, can I?"

"That isn't the point. Or yours. You are here to win for us."

"Yes," Robin says. "I suppose you're right."

"So speak plainly with me."

 

 

**. . .**

Back in the heady days of them against Gangrel, Robin had wondered if she was in love with Chrom. Lissa had teased her about having given Chrom separation anxiety. "You're just too good," Lissa had said. Robin was kind of dangerous.

Of course Robin hadn't understood that it  _was_  teasing. She'd taken Lissa seriously and become distressed. She's been troubled, but she hid that during their conversations, and afterwards she'd consulted her books: What is love?

The immediate variance and disagreement of definition had been profoundly irritating. Was not such discordance proof that love didn't exist? Some argued that thiswas proof  _not_ of its non-existence, but of its ineffable existence. Was there not a single coherent treatise on the subject? No—she could find no text that did not self-contradict in at least four places.

She'd kept reading and she'd keep observing. There were some signs: Sumia's stumbling and stuttering, Sumia's pies, Sumia's bloom of confidence. These were lucid examples of techniques and symptoms of wooing. For Chrom's part, he had paid Sumia earnest attention. He was kind to all of the Shepherds, but at some point or another he had lost his patience with each of them.

But never with her. Robin had decided that that was a case of the halo effect.

Did no-one else see the signs of courting between Chrom and Sumia? Or was  _she_  wrong, and it was everyone else who could discern the true courtship?

She'd examined her own side of the situation. There were the mishaps with nudity, but those were mere accidents and not indiscretions. And Chrom looked at her and smiled at her, but there had never been a suggestion of  _just us_ ; he was more than willing to share the pleasant, unexpected gift of her with everyone. She worked for the group. There was never a promise of them two, forever. (Such was how she thought of it. Like a child she assumed that marriage was a final, perfect culmination that always delivered the pair unto happiness. One man and one woman, together ascending to a realm that was to be envied by all the uninitiated. There was something sacred about it all. It hadn't occurred to her that there could be alternatives—alternative realities, alternative notions, alternative endings. Nor had it been understood by her then that sex was a part of it.)

For Robin, the most telling—and later troubling—sign had been that he had never set her heart aflutter. She had the impression that that was the most basic part. He did nothing to her, and she told no-one that. Then she'd looked around and found that no man in their group made her feel anything akin to what she should have been feeling. She told no-one about that either. They'd say she just hadn't meet the right man yet. There are plenty of fish in the sea.

Or something—there was an inexhaustible supply of euphemisms for,  _you won't stay unloved forever._ As though there was some present comfort to be found in the idea.

The comments on their intimacy finally stopped at the war's end. Chrom confessed to Sumia. Sumia donned that royal ring to seal her fate. Robin was let alone. It had stayed that way until Lucina raised her accusations. She said that Robin was conniving to break apart a happy home. His adult daughter suspected her of that.

 

 

**. . .**

When had Robin realised?

She  _should_  have realised when Marth became a woman. A dramatic flash, a classic unmasking, and then—it was the stuff of popular theatre.

But at the time Robin hadn't noticed the feeling in her gut. Later she named her nerves the result of the situation. Chrom almost died. The stress of it was obvious. Later still, she would have to try to fool herself. That was not easy. The attempts were not successful.

Virion, who was then courting Rboin as openly as he courted every other female, told her that love was tough. Love hurt. Nor was it a game with a guaranteed winner, and everyone could lose. Believe me, my dear, for I speak from experience.

 

 

**. . .**

Robin couldn't believe her ears. Such rumours were maybe whispered in private. That was one thing. But here she was confronted in the middle of the camp in the middle of the day when anyone could overhear.

"Just trust me," Robin was saying.

"My father certainly seems to! And look at what that might have gotten him into. No. Someone must be on guard for his honour. And if he will not do so himself, I shall."

By some miracle of some god, most of the camp was out drilling in a nearby field. A significant part of their forces were helping repair a Risen razed village.

"Lucina, this is utter madness. Use that sense that you inherited from your father."

"If I did!"

"You've already been born in this timeline!" Robin had actually shrieked. She had thrown her hands up. She had then been determined to cause Lucina some embarrassment; maybe that could make a cruel point where reason had failed. "And let me stop you before you go  _there,_ Princess _._ Yes, you are Sumia's daughter. My maidenhood's still intact as far as I know. Have a damned doctor examine me if you must."

Lucina had been at a loss for a moment. But not subdued. Her suspicion had raged in her eyes even as her shame raged in her blush. The sun had been beating down on them, giving Lucina's pale skin a harsh radiance. Though her hair hadn't caught the light, it had shone. (She had been lurid and elegant, poised and conflicted, dangerous and demure, later to be remembered as a caricature of a berserked swan.)

"You still love him."

"Yes. But only as a friend. It has never been as a woman loves a man." She hadn't added,  _nor could I,_ or something a little more relevant, like the simple phrase of  _if only_. Just as she had taken care not to call Chrom's daughter a vixen.

"We'll see," Lucina had said.

"I'm sorry?"

"I said, we'll see."

"Very well," Robin had said with a voice she hoped was measured. "Follow me around if you feel you must, until your conscious is certain of your father's virtue. Then you'll see that I speak the truth, you jealous child."

Righteous, Lucina had accepted the offer despite the insult. By then she had already invested too much to back down.

 

 

**. . .**

Falchion's blade glints in the gloaming. Robin wishes that the slanting sun wasn't in her eyes. They say that being spared the sight of your executioner is a humane mercy. But it isn't, not in this case. Not when she is so stunning.

Lucina will be a wonderful last sight, Robin thinks. She could die content this way. She could also save Chrom, and at the same time she could spare this woman so much grief that is yet to come again. What little she has to offer, Robin's giving willingly. If it comes to it, she will beg Lucina to kill her.

"Yes," she says. "I bear House Ylisse such love. If you find my life worth taking, it is yours. It always has been, since the day your father found me."

She cannot see Lucina's expression for her sun-blindness. So she projects: that day in the field at midday, it was Lucina who had pulled her up. Such kindness, such eagerness she had shown. At the time Robin had glided by on the friendly easiness Lucina had so unquestioningly lain out for her. It was all so organic. She hadn't realised she had amnesia immediately, and nor had it mattered later. They became fast friends, two halves of a whole.

After helping her up, Lucina's eternal smile would alter the course of Robin's life, and then the course of the world. (Of all worlds?) Consequently it would come to be the end of gods.

Robin would later say that it was then that she'd fallen in love.  _At the beginning, the first time I saw you._  It would be simple as that. Though of course, she would add, she hadn't realised it at first. But it wouldn't matter. Lucina would be the one to confess. Yes. She was the one who knew about love then. She was the one who'd known to follow her heart.

Or Robin could say that, in reality, the exact moment was in that courtyard. You saved me, when you thought you were just saving your father. I was alone and confused and unknowing. It was dark, and suddenly you were _there._   _It was night then, but you were a sudden sun who outshone the moon,_ Robin would whisper into Lucina's ear, as they embraced naked in their bed. There would be hands roaming over pale skin and secret scars only she would ever know about. And she would be willing—for Lucina's slightly taller—and she would smile even as she knowingly obfuscated. Everyone knows that love stories sound better when they are partial lies.

In any case, Lucina is smiling. That's how Robin sees her. She's blinded by the setting sun's flare, so she has to. That's what's offered to her. She also imagines that here, now, there is a second outpouring of overfull love. So she finally has found a truth for her first memory.

She's ready. She's content.

She has filled her measure with love, so why should she have any regrets?

It is Chrom who saves her.

 

 

**. . .**

When Lucina had followed her on that first day, she had every intention to be utterly devoted to her cause. She was determined to watch Robin even in her sleep.

"To make sure you don't sneak out at night, you seductress. You won't get passed me."

Robin had stared at her. Then she'd groaned at Lucina's folly, and at her own. Why hadn't she thought this out?

Eventually, Lucina had fallen asleep in her vigil. She was seated on a chair and softly snoring nearby. Robin only noticed this when she'd finished her work and stood up from her desk. It wasn't far from the early hours of the morning then. She'd left a singular candle burning to prepare for bed by. The night had crept a little closer.

After changing and moving across her tent, Robin had set her guttering candle down on her rickety night stand. She was going to blow it out. Then she stopped. Flickering lighted played on Lucina's hair, gleamed in her tiara, touched the shell of her ear and her celestial nose, highlighted her rose-petal lips. There was an elegant hand resting on the pommel of Falchion.

She noticed that Lucina was beautiful. She was exquisite, and Robin was suddenly at a crossroads.

Here they were; the rest of the camp was out there. She knew that Lucina never hid anything. She would have probably said something by now if there was anything to say. That was something that Robin admired about her. Lucina had the ability to say her mind whether it was an unpleasant thought or pure vitriol. If she did not manage to put it aptly, at least she said it. You generally knew where you were with her.

But Robin could wake Lucina up. They could talk. It would be—

Easy—that's what she'd called it. She saw the whole scenario before her like one of her strategy puzzles. She could've chosen to confess. She could've said,  _I would be so happy here with you, or anywhere. Please, tell me where you'd like to go._ She could've easily been rid of the burden of all the expectations, hopes, and respect that Chrom and his army had for her. She could've done it then. But she wouldn't.

She had gone to bed. Alone, she'd discovered for the first time her passion, her capacity for it. In a sense she also stumbled upon the reality of the rest of her life. There would be a marriage, of course, and there would be a string of lovers with their requisite experimentation. And there could be a reconciliation after all. But no-one else would ever be  _her_ , so she alone would have to be the next best thing.


End file.
